Gazing out across the calm Irish Sea from this stunning Celtic coastline, it’s difficult to imagine a French invasion force landing here, with plans to incite a British revolution.
Thirty meters below me the waves lap gently against the rocky shoreline, a light, salty breeze caresses my face, and the sky screeches to the piercing calls of herring gulls. Both left and right, the Pembrokeshire coastline stretches far into the distance, a sentinel to potential invaders. Behind me, fields and hedges top the luscious landscape, with only a handful of cottages and dwellings punctuating Britain’s only coastal national park.