The next leg is an open crossing of Tremadog Bay, and the forecast is for thundery showers, so paddling out into the middle of the bay and sitting there waving a carbon fibre paddle in the air doesn't seem like the brightest idea...
The further north one travels in Wales, the more English becomes a second language, and the more one feels like a foreigner. Most signs are bi-lingual, but I understand that there is no need for a Welsh version of this one outside an animal care centre in Barmouth, as it would read: "the toothless pooch likes having her tummy tickled."
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