Teenage kicks

To Wales. Where summer is something from a science-fiction novel.

Our destination, a YHA hostel in Broad Haven, Pembrokeshire, is from a selection of the best value for money accommodations in the country. Hurray!

Naturally, my expectations weren’t what you would call high. By the time we got there, despite car sickness and just wanting to sleep, read, or possibly throttle the whole family (which of course would be very unwise), we looked for some distraction.

And believe me, if you can’t find anything to do here, you’re simply not trying.

First there’s the hostel itself. If you’re expecting Spartan accommodation, barely functional sanitation and beds so close together you’re woken every day by a toe being jammed into your eye, then you need not worry.

If on the other hand you would like a little more luxury — the clue is in the spelling, hostel not hotel. Toilet, shower, beds, wardrobe. That really is all.

Stop thinking it’s fine, because it isn’t. Whole family, one room! But outside, fortunately, it's a different story.

There’s a small café, which opens early and has excellent coffee served by the eager-to-please and hardworking staff.

The fully functioning restaurant has excellent, reasonably priced food and a 'sort-of' sea view.

That is to say, a hedge, through which you get occasional glimpses of the rolling waves.

The restaurant is fully supplied with local produce but if you are one of those unbearable people (my little brother springs oh-so-quickly to mind) who are just utterly unadventurous, then the café also does chips.

All that separates the hostel from a long stretch of beach is a small car park with pointy gravel (the sort that can cut into bare, wet feet at the end of each day).

The beach itself is walled by large and imposing cliffs at each end, good for climbing over by even the most inexperienced of people (in this case, my search-and-rescue- call-waiting-to-happen sister).

There are spectacular views from the windswept summits. If you’ve no mind for climbing stroke-inducing cliffs, then you might think rock pooling would be an easy, safe alternative.

Well apparently, not so, as this particular area of Wales has decided it would rather be Australia.

According to the reassuringly present lifeguards, the Weever fish lurks at low tide, and, I’m told, can leave a nasty sting when stood on. The traditional cure (surely meant to lessen the pain?) is to boil your foot. There is also the fact that the rock pools, although bereft of the usual fare of small shrimps or little crabs, are huge.

To catch anything successfully you must don a wetsuit and snorkel, which is actually cheaper to buy than to rent from the Broad Haven Surf Shop (if you plan on using it often) before plunging into the rock pool abyss.

Leave the beach and there is of course the sea itself where, as with most things Welsh, it's Arctic cold.

We rented a kayak from the aforementioned Surf Shop and after hours spent struggling against the waves and relying on our lifejackets, we surren- dered to the tides and made for the nearest chip shop (the Fish Shop).

But the queue was so long, which is apparently always the case, that other shops have been set up around it.

And even though the chips were excellent, they weren’t worth the freezing wait at minus 60C.

Across the water, near enough to see but not to swim to, are a collection of islands which you can be ferried to (and it's not too expensive).

They are mostly covered in puffins, so much so in fact that they are more puffin than island.

One of the islands, Caldey, is home to a chocolate monastery, which I later learned means that the Benedictine monks make chocolate rather than live in a gingerbread-type residence.

Though it can’t live up to expectations now, it’s still worth a visit.

Having tired of hypothermia, we looked for land-based activities. Most of them are either in or on the way to St Davids, although braving the narrow coastal roads took us close to ending up on the front of an oncoming truck.

We came through unscathed only because we spent so much time being cowards and giving way to everyone else.

St Davids itself, famously the smallest city in Britain, is half on hour from Broad Haven and is home to the bones of Wales’ patron saint. To say it’s the country’s smallest city is like saying that I am the world’s smallest giant.

And if you didn’t already know it, because you just walked from one end to the other, then it'll be because you’ve just seen the 50th sign telling you so.

However, despite its tiny proportions, it packs a lot of punch. Entirely by coincidence, there was a local food festival on. My family went to that while I went climbing and when we met up, they offered the following comments: "There was chocolate!" and "I bought fluffy shoes!"

The climbing activity was organised by TYF (the world’s first carbon neutral adventure activity company, no less).

The company — and no, I don't know what TYF stands for — offers many similar activities such as Coasteering (skirting the coast in wetsuits ending with a jump from the cliffs into the sea), surfing and kayak- ing.

Indeed, they even have their own eco hotel.

We were led by a young man who could cling to cliffs with nothing but his toes (no, really). He was an excellent leader who shared these insightful thoughts on St Davids: "It’s a great place to live, just great" followed by "Eventually it gets a bit hard what with everyone knowing your business" only to end with "It’s quite a bit like Royston Vasey" (the twisted village of League of Gentlemen fame).

Away from the coast are more traditional family choices.

Oakwood, a scaled down Alton Towers-like theme park, has Hydro, Europe’s biggest water ride.

There is also Heatherton. Not sure what category it falls into, but this place proves beyond all reasonable doubt the versatility of the lawnmower engine.

Go-karts (a stunningly fast and fun way to get yourself killed); Bumpers — a cross between a boat and dodgems (a stunningly slow way to go); and battling robots with big flippers on the front (surely the coolest way imaginable) are all powered by the noisy petrol driven motors.

There is also laser clay pigeon shooting, mazes and the ever-present and wholly evil smelling fast food wagons.

They also manage to pack in offsite paintball and a treetops adventure trail. It's not cheap but they do give YHA members a discount of about 10 per cent.

In the end, the good finally outweighed the bad by a reasonable margin. If you’re ever bored here, it’s your own fault for being so boring.

If like me you are foolish enough to go with family (rather than friends) then it will be a constant trial but if you persevere, then you should be able to have a pretty good time.

It’s only Wales. What’s the worst that could happen?